Granddad
It all unfolded on a balmy summer evening. I was walking home after my netball practice, the air glowing faintly gold. Thats when I spotted himan elderly gentleman slumped across the pavement, utterly unable to get up. Everyone else skirted around him, steering clear and whispering to one another, as if certain he was another drunk off his feet. He mumbled garbled sounds to the passersby, stretching his trembling hands out to them, only for them to recoil.
Mum had always told me, from when I was small, that you ought to help where youre able. So, I went up to him and softly asked, Do you need some help, sir? He just muttered and grabbed for my hand, words tumbling out in muddled tones.
A woman sauntered past, eyeing me with disapproval. Leave him be, love, she said crisply. Cant you see hes sloshed? Youll catch something, or dirty yourself. Just look at him! Only then did I noticehis hands were smudged with blood, seeping into the grooves of his wrinkled knuckles. A shiver of fear ran through me as I tried to understand what had happened. In response to my worried question, he just mumbled again, clutching a battered plastic bag lying beside him.
Inside were ripped shards of brown glass, old beer bottles splintered into pieces. He picked up a couple more fragments from the ground and dropped them into the bag. Thats how his hands were bloodied. I fished out my pack of wet wipes and carefully cleaned his scarlet streaked hands, not wanting to stain his clothes or mine with blood.
Once his hands were sorted, I helped him back to his feet. I asked him where he lived, but he only muttered in response, head lolling. I listened hard, but couldnt make sense of it. Realising my confusion, he pointed with a shaking hand at a nearby block of flats. His gnarled fingers flashed two numbershis flat, I guessed. With a careful press of the intercom, I called up. A womans voice, thick with anxiety, crackled through the speaker. The man at my side grunted in response.
Moments later, a man and woman burst out of the building, faces pale with worry. They gathered around the old man, fussing over his cuts and checking if he was hurt. The man, murmuring his thanks, lifted him up gently and carried him inside. The woman lingered, asking how she might repay me. I shrugged it off, only for her to insist, remembering something as she dashed into the building. Within a minute, she returned holding an enormous punnet of garden raspberries.
Theyre homegrown! she boasted. I shook my head, trying not to take it, but she pressed it eagerly into my arms. Please do, take them. Wed gone half-mad when we got back from the allotment and realised Granddad had vanished.
The truth is, she carried on, during the war, he was captured by the Germans. He always held a high position, see, so he hurt his tongueto keep from being made to spill secrets. There was no hygiene there. By the time he escaped, his wound had gone bad, and they had to cut half his tongue away. Thats why he cant speak, only hums and grunts like that. The local kids have made a habit of boozing around the playground in the evenings, smashing their bottles wherever they like. Weve written to the police, but nothings done. The children pick up these nasty shards, get their hands and feet all cut up. After my daughter Alice gashed her leg, Granddad started clearing up after those pigs, picking up the glass so the little ones dont get hurt. But hes not steady on his legs anymore. No matter how we beg, or try to hide the keys, he slips out. Once, he collapsed and lay there for five hours, and no one helped. Wed just about decided to go looking when you rang the bell. Thank you, truly.
Her story left me speechless. She thrust the raspberries into my hands, and I managed only an awkward, silent bow before I shuffled off home. Halfway there, I started to cry. Why is it like this here? Why do we think only of ourselves? So, to everyone: if you see someone fallen, dont just assume hes drunken and ignore him. Go to him. He may really need your help. And let us, especially the young, rememberwe are PEOPLE, not pigs.
